Language Barriers
by Mendeia
Summary: Fate is a Gift Series Part 15: After the events of "What Lies Within," Max needs a lot more help than his school counselor can offer. Thankfully, Virgil knows exactly who to call when his Mighty One is chasing the ghosts in his own mind.
Hiya all!

So this is the first story dealing with the immediate aftermath of What Lies Within, but it won't be the last. It is, however, really important – Max can't go forward until he gets himself the right kind of help. Thankfully, he has friends for that.

Dedicated to user S.M.F. from fanfic dot net who doesn't have a user so I can't reply to your reviews, but I do read them and appreciate them. If you have a user either here or on AO3, sign in so I can message you when you say awesome things!

Enjoy!

* * *

"Please sit down." The man gestured to the two chairs before his desk.

Virgil primly climbed into one while the mother of the Mighty One perched on the other. Norman settled for leaning against the shut door behind them. He wasn't feeling particularly threatened by the cardigan-wearing school counselor, a gentle looking man in his fifties with thick grey hair pulled into a braid behind him, but it never hurt to be careful.

And if Norman was not currently able to watch over the Mighty One in class, he was absolutely going to watch over the Mighty One's mother, just in case.

The man looked a little askance at Virgil and Norman. "I just want to make sure that you are comfortable with me sharing the results of Max's sessions with these two, uh, friends?" he asked Max's mom.

"I am," she said. "They need to know about my son as much as I do. And they're more than friends. They're...sort of his family, too."

"Very well. It's nice to meet you, then. I'm Henry Cooper, though all the kids call me Doc."

"I am Virgil and this is Norman," Virgil introduced them politely. "Please, tell us what you can of the Might-er, _Max's_ wellbeing."

Doctor Cooper sighed. "Max is a very interesting case. On the one hand, he could charm the scales from a snake – he's very outgoing and personable and he has a way of drawing people in that is common to great leaders as well as conmen."

Max's mom smiled wryly in spite of herself. "I've noticed."

"On the other hand," the doctor continued, "he's clearly been through something very, _very_ traumatic. Any time he stopped deflecting or avoiding the actual reasons for our discussions, I could see that he is really struggling on many levels. He's coping amazingly well – children do, at this age; they're remarkably resilient – but the emotions run deep."

Doctor Cooper took off his glasses and folded his hands on the desk, leaning forward.

"Max is suffering from a profound sense of loss and guilt, as well as some very significant fears from what I understand was an absolutely hellish situation for anyone, let alone a child. And while Max may be an exceptional child, he still lacks the skills to handle the powerful effects of what he has experienced. PTSD would be a possible diagnosis, but that's too simplistic for this particular case. Moreover, he labors under a sense of responsibility not only for what occurred but for similar dangers in the future, and he has assured me there is no chance he will escape additional stressful situations, possibly even soon."

Virgil took a breath before he shook his head and said, "He is correct. Child though he may be, he is more akin to a front-line soldier than anything else now. This has been the worst...incident he has ever experienced, but it will almost certainly not be the last."

Doctor Cooper didn't need his degree to see the pain and guilt in the wizened Lemurian before him, nor the resigned sorrow in Max's mother. Nobody was _happy_ about the position Max occupied, but no one could seem to prevent it, either.

In any other case, Doctor Cooper would have called the authorities to remove the boy from such a dangerous home life. But he had been briefed on Max's unique situation, had actually undertaken a short trip with the boy during their first session together just to confirm it for himself, and was forced to admit he couldn't think of any better option. Max had a hat that could open portals and he regularly saved the world from monsters; Doctor Cooper didn't think even Children's Services had a policy to handle that.

He nodded. "To be honest, what Max has experienced, and what he will continue to experience, is far beyond my area of expertise. I will be happy to help him however I can as he navigates his unique needs at school, but what he really needs is a proper therapist who has some way of relating to what he has been through."

"Where do we find him a therapist who specializes in saving the world?" Max's mom asked.

Doctor Cooper shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe one who deals with soldiers, or with members of the police and fire departments. Those would be a place to start."

Virgil reached a feathered hand over to touch Max's mother's shoulder. "I have some idea about that myself."

She looked at him and nodded, a shade of relief in her eyes.

Doctor Cooper saw the trust between them and was grateful for it. He could only imagine it would be that much harder on Max if the adults in his life did not share a unified perspective. If Max had been forced to hide his activities from his mother, or if she had not supported him, it could have made it that much more emotionally damaging for the boy to navigate his already difficult situation.

"For what it's worth," Doctor Cooper said, "while Max absolutely does need to work with a professional to help him continue to build ways to cope, he is handling himself better than many adults would in his place. The fact that he has the three of you to support him with understanding and compassion has done much to alleviate some of the pressure on him. As long as you continue to help him, I am certain he can not only recover from this latest incident but can go on to build a strong and healthy mindset that can withstand the life he leads."

"Don't worry," Norman spoke for the first time. "We're not going anywhere."

And Doctor Cooper believed him.

-==OOO==-

Later, as they walked the halls of the school to where their path would split – Max's mom would head home while Virgil and Norman stayed on the school-grounds just in case Max needed them – she turned to Virgil.

"You said you had an idea about someone Max could talk to?"

He nodded. "Yes. Someone eminently qualified with a unique understanding of the Mighty One's rather unusual circumstances."

"Okay." She smiled tentatively. "I don't care what this person costs. Let's see if we can set something up."

"I wouldn't worry about cost," Virgil replied. "I believe he will be willing to assist us free of charge."

Max's mother was surprised. "Why?"

Virgil exchanged a glance with Norman before saying, "Because he is a friend."

-==OOO==-

That night, Virgil gave Max the choice.

"If you wish, we can simply arrange for a _coincidental_ meeting with the person I prefer. Or we can follow Doctor Cooper's suggestions and select someone local if you would prefer not to venture too far from home at this time."

"Or?" Max asked, sensing a third option.

Virgl almost smiled. "Or I can simply tell you the name of the person I wish you to speak with on this matter and you can choose how you would like to proceed for yourself."

Max let out a breath. He wondered if Virgil knew how grateful he was that he had the ability to make this decision. It was in Virgil's nature to manipulate things around him just as the prophecy itself did, but after Toyama they had all learned that Max needed to have say in it. Max might well vote to let Virgil set up an 'accidental' meeting, but he would know he had been empowered to make that accident happen.

Being empowered had never been so important to the Mighty One before.

"Just tell me," Max decided. "Since Freud is out, who else do you want shrinking my head?"

Virgil gave him a mild look. "As if I would send you to _Freud_ on a matter such as this."

That made Max smile. "Out with it, Virg. Who're we talking about?"

Virgil opted to tease his young charge slightly. "Why Mighty One, it ought to be perfectly obvious…"

-==OOO==-

Max pushed open the familiar door, Virgil and Norman crowding behind him. Before his eyes had even adjusted to the relative dimness inside compared to the sunlit street outside, he heard the phone ring followed by a pert answer.

"Ghostbusters. If you've got spooks, we're your kooks!"

"Ja _nine_! I thought I said never to use that line again!" Peter Venkman was leaning around the file cabinets that divided Janine's desk from the rest of the official office behind.

Max made his way around Ecto-1 and couldn't help but smirk as Janine gave her boss an arch look. She covered the mouthpiece with one hand and replied, "Says the man who answered it 'Venkman and the Pips' last week!"

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but Janine had already turned back to her desk and was taking notes as the caller described their problem. In the meantime, Peter's gaze fell on his guests.

"Well, lookee here! How's it hanging, Max?" he smiled.

Max made himself smile in return. He knew it was no surprise to Peter Venkman that he was here, that Virgil and Max's mom had been on the phone with Peter for a couple of hours only two days before. He knew this was no ordinary friendly visit for either of them.

But it helped that Peter did look genuinely glad to see him, even if his sharp green eyes seemed to perceive more than Max thought he was giving away.

"Oh, you know," Max shrugged. "Saving the world. Same old, same old."

"Yeah, I hear that. So, you gonna bunk with us for a few days?"

"If you don't mind." He tipped his head to the fiery secretary as she ended the phone call. "Hi Janine!"

"Good to see you, Max," she smiled at him. If she knew the real reason he was here, she didn't bat an eye about it. Instead, she handed a slip of paper to Peter. "I know what you said, but I don't think we can postpone this one."

Max glanced at the worksheet-slash-calendar that hung in the hall across from Janine's desk where she put the daily jobs that weren't urgent enough to warrant ringing the alarm and summoning the team from whatever else they'd been doing. He wasn't entirely surprised to see that the schedule had been largely cleared for the next few days. Oh, there were a few little jobs posted, mainly noted as follow-ups, but everything big that would take the full four-man team had been pushed back.

Max tightened his jaw and tried not to think that it was his fault, even though it was.

Peter was running a hand through his brown hair. Finally, he sighed. "You're probably right. Okay. But we'll give it a few hours at least. Tell them to expect us around seven tonight." When he looked back at Max, he shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry we're not going to be better hosts."

"You shouldn't make people who are in trouble wait on my account," Max said.

Peter smiled at him. "Believe me, if there were people in danger, the siren would already be screaming. Don't sweat it, short stuff."

Max just nodded.

There was a moment of awkward quiet and Max felt like coughing or fidgeting or something. Surely they weren't going to make him just start in on it with Virgil and Norman and Janine all staring at him like he was put together wrong. Were they?

"Ah, Virgil. Greetings."

Max looked gratefully up to where Egon had appeared on the stairs.

"You have fortuitous timing, as ever," Egon continued blithely, as if he were totally unaware of the subtext at play. Only because he knew him so well was Max certain that wasn't the case – Egon might not have a psych degree, but he was both highly observant and quietly compassionate. "I have recently come upon a series of hieroglyphs that are unfamiliar to me. Perhaps you might be willing to assist me in translating them?"

"Oh, hey!" came a cheerful shout and Ray was suddenly spinning down the pole. "Hi guys!"

Winston was right behind him. "Welcome back to the Big Apple," he smiled.

"I feel like we should throw you a party or something, but Winston and I actually have a huge amount of work to do on Ecto-1 here," Ray rubbed his nose apologetically.

Winston eyed Norman. "Feel like giving us a hand?"

Max felt the neat trap close around him, and though on the one hand it made his heart pound and his head ring with a desire to _run now_ , on the other he was profoundly grateful for the feigned normality of it all.

Max jerked his body into motion and he slapped Norman on the arm. "Go ahead, big guy. You're way better than a jack. And maybe there'll be some steel for you to bend or something."

Norman's eyes did not rise to the false humor and he nodded quietly. "As you wish, Mighty One."

"And I would be most pleased to assist you however I can," Virgil was already striding up the stairs towards Egon, though he glanced back at Max every few steps. "I'm certain I have some information that would be of value to your library of resources as well."

And into the sudden gap, Peter was beside Max. "Come on, kid. They're gonna go be boring. Let's you and me clear out before Janine finds something for us to do, too."

"Don't think I wouldn't!" Janine called teasingly.

But Max knew, because he was looking for it, that she didn't quite smile right, and her eyes lingered after him a little too long.

To Max's surprise, Peter led the way not to his own office, but to the stairs that descended into the basement. Wondering but not really trusting himself to speak, Max followed Peter down the metal stairs that creaked, his eyes glued to the bright red Containment Unit that took up most of the far wall. He couldn't help but shiver.

"Yeah, it gives everybody the creeps," Peter told him. "But there's something better down here that I want you to see."

Max hadn't really explored the basement on his previous visit, and he discovered it was bigger than he had thought. Around one corner, Peter pointed out what he called "Egon's workroom when he wants to be a hermit," but he instead pushed open a narrow door that was almost invisible in the dim hallway.

"This," Peter flung his arms out wide, "is the Mousehole."

"The what now?"

Peter smiled. "We've redesigned the basement a bunch of times to compensate for the Unit getting bigger and more complicated. Well, on the last rebuild, as far as we can tell, our contractor had one spot he'd always put down his ruler or something when he was working – either that or the man couldn't do his math right – so we ended up with this weird little room."

It really was a weird little room. It seemed to run along the entire back of the firehouse, but it was probably only a hair over three yards wide. In spite of that, the room had obviously taken on a character of its own. The floor was layered in area rugs, clearly second- or third-hand given the visible wear and tear. There was also a mishmash of scrounged furniture – whatever would fit through the door from a lumpy little couch to a chipped, art deco bookshelf loaded with yellowing magazines and dog-eared paperbacks. In addition to the bare bulbs that hung amidst the exposed pipes and vents in the ceiling, the room was ringed with twinkle-lights, ropes and ropes of them casting a cheerful, sparkly glow.

"Sometimes," Peter's voice had gone a little softer, "one of the four of us needs to get away. Janine's got her own apartment, but the rest of us tend to live in each others' pockets. And have you ever had three roommates who all snore?" He smirked. "So, until Egon and Ray decide we need _another_ lab for some reason, we decided to make this the spot where any one of us could get some quiet time. And sometimes just knowing it's here, that we can come down here and close the door and nobody will bother us for anything short of an urgent bust, well, it helps us not need it so much."

Max nodded wordlessly.

"Listen, Max," Peter said, shutting the door and herding the kid farther into the room to where they could sink down on ancient, threadbare armchairs, "we both know why you're here. Everybody's worried about you and I bet they have a right to be. Don't you think?"

Max's mouth felt dry but he said, "Yeah, they do."

Peter gave a half-smile. "Okay. I'm glad we agree on that. But look. Even if I put on my 'Doctor Venkman' hat here, it's still just me, you know? And we're friends, right?"

Max nodded again.

Peter leaned forward, pinning the boy with his gaze. "So I'm going to make you a promise as both Doctor Venkman and your buddy Pete. Anything you want to say to me down here in this room will never be repeated. Not to Virgil and Norman, not to the guys, not to your mom, nobody. Not only does Doctor Venkman have a responsibility to uphold a patient's privacy, but your friend Pete wants you to know that you can trust him. Nobody can hear us down here and even Slimer knows he isn't allowed in this room."

After a moment, he added, "And you know, I _know_ you know, that nothing you say will ever change my opinion of you. Right? Nothing you could say will ever make me think less of you than I ever did. You got that?"

And it was a testament to Max's own strength and the help and support he had already received that he was able to clear his throat and honestly say, "Yeah, I know that."

Peter smiled a little, the slightest rounding of his mouth giving away how pleased he was by that first step, before he settled in. "So, lay it on me, Max. Why don't you tell me what happened when you first arrived in Toyama?"

-==OOO==-

"It's really bad, isn't it?" Winston asked, and Ray and Norman both knew he wasn't talking about Ecto-1's automotive problems.

Norman's face went blank and he said nothing.

"Don't worry about it," Ray tried to smile encouragingly. "Pete's the best. He'll take care of Max. You'll see."

At Norman's stillness, Ray fidgeted. Then he started to babble.

"I mean, I know he seems kind of like a goofball most of the time, but he's a really, _really_ good psychologist and you can tell because otherwise he wouldn't have been able to get his doctorate in half the time while _also_ getting the other one in parapsychology. And he's talked us all through all _sorts_ of things. He's really the _best_ and he's a _lot_ smarter than he pretends to be and I _know_ he'll take care of Max and…"

Winston grabbed Ray's shoulder, bringing him to a stop. "We know that, homeboy. You don't need to convince us."

Norman's face hadn't unbent at all and Winston let out a breath. He leaned closer to Ray.

"It's not that he doesn't trust Venkman; I mean, if he didn't, they wouldn't even be here. It's just that he's worried about the kid."

Norman closed his eyes for an instant and looked suddenly impossibly ancient and wearied.

"Yes. I am."

-==OOO==-

"If this is what I believe it to be, you have made some truly great strides in the science of applied physics to inter-dimensional quantum recovery, Doctor Spengler."

"Thank you for saying so, Virgil. However, Winston tells me it looks more like an ugly baby buggy."

"Well...I confess that might also be true."

-==OOO==-

Max was pacing in front of Peter with an almost frantic energy.

"It was my fault! I should have destroyed that Crystal when I had the chance!"

"You're not the only one who forgot about it. And I figure anything Virgil doesn't think of, you're kind of off the hook for, you know? I mean, if Egon can't outthink a problem, the rest of us don't have a chance. That's Virgil's job, isn't it?"

"It's _my_ job!" Max's eyes flashed. " _I'm_ the one who's supposed to be the hero!"

"You're also doing the best you can," Peter said reasonably. He wasn't so much arguing with the kid to try to convince him as he was drawing out the deeper roots of the issue by making the kid fight with him. Luckily, Max was a born fighter.

"And it's not enough!" Max snapped. "One mistake and all those people got killed." His eyes landed on Peter and the Ghostbuster was gratified to see the honest anguish behind the rage. "You don't get it. When did _you_ ever make a mistake like that?"

"The first year on the job."

Peter's voice, low and sincere, caught Max off-guard and he froze.

"Sixteen people died as a direct result of the first Containment Unit blowing up," Peter said, never looking away from Max's eyes. "None in the explosion, but the ghosts that escaped were mighty angry and they took it out on anybody in their way. We were lucky it wasn't more."

Max was staring and Peter gave a half-shrug. "It's my fault Walter Peck ever got his court order to shut down the Unit. He pulled the lever, or some guy from the power company did, but he only became a problem when I pissed him off. If Egon or Ray or Winston or even Janine had handled him, it might not have ever happened."

Peter actually got out of his chair and faced Max directly. "So I know _exactly_ how it feels that innocent people died because I didn't do my job right. And it is _still not your fault_."

-==OOO==-

"Hey, Norman? How strong are you?"

"Very."

"Strong enough to lift this engine block out without breaking anything?"

"Strong enough to lift this _car_ without breaking anything."

"Oh. Well, let's just start with the engine."

-==OOO==-

"I will say this to Doctor Venkman as well, but I wished to convey my gratitude for your willingness to aid us in our time of need," Virgil said.

Egon's eyebrows quirked. "Virgil, in the last two hours, you have expanded my library and my knowledge of certain demons tenfold. If there were no other reason, that itself would far outweigh any service we can offer Max. This is potentially life-saving information."

"Well, yes," Virgil acknowledged.

"However," Egon said, "it is immaterial. Were our positions reversed, you would do no less for one of us."

Virgil ducked his head in acquiescence. "Still, you have inconvenienced yourselves for the sake of the Mighty One and…"

"Virgil." Egon looked piercingly at the ancient fowl beside him. "There is no shame that this task cannot be accomplished without outside assistance. I am a physicist first and foremost, just as Ray is an engineer and Peter is a psychologist, but we have all learned the trade of heroism in our line of work. Should any of us require training in the way of heroism, we would not hesitate to call you for instruction. Similarly, you may be many things, but you are not the psychologist Max needs in order to overcome his ordeal."

"Believe me, I am well aware of that." The edge of despair was clear in his dejected tone.

Egon let out a little sigh. "Perhaps you yourself should speak to Peter sometime as well. It seems Max is not the only one so deeply affected."

Virgil opened his beak to respond sharply, but he paused before letting out a heavy breath. "Perhaps...you have a point."

Egon hid his smile behind a mug of coffee as he turned away. "Of course I have. It is logical to see to the needs of the mind when it has been damaged just as it is logical to have a doctor to see to the needs of the body when it is injured. Now, let's move on to these Carpathian legends."

-==OOO==-

Max's face was flushed a dark red and his eyes were wet. "But it's so _stupid_ to be scared of something like that!"

"It's not stupid at all," Peter told him firmly. "Now, if you came out of that cramped space with a fear of, I dunno, bagels, _that_ might be stupid. Claustrophobia is perfectly normal."

In spite of himself, Max huffed a laugh. "Bagels? Really?"

"Don't even start with me, bucko."

-==OOO==-

Janine looked at the clock and sighed. She knew it was necessary, but she still felt bad about it. Even a full-torso apparition didn't seem as important as Doctor Venkman talking to Max. Janine didn't know the details and she hadn't asked. But she knew that look in the kid's face, that icy fragility in his eyes. She'd seen it too many times from clients and, now and again, even her four Ghostbusters after a really bad day.

Janine took a deep breath.

" _Time to go to work_!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs. A moment later, she hit the alarm.

"Geez, Janine!" Winston yelled from under Ecto-1 where he had just banged his head in surprise. "We're right here!"

"Sure, but Doctor V isn't," she said with a shrug. Janine caught Norman's amused glance and winked at him. "Better finish up fast. You remember what happened the last time you guys took a cab to a job."

Ray winced. "Just a minute!"

Egon was coming down the stairs at his usual pace, Virgil rushing behind to keep up given his much shorter legs. Ray helped Winston out from under the vehicle and they both began rapidly finishing their work so they would have a usable means of transport.

But they had closed up Ecto-1 and gotten all their gear ready to go before Peter finally appeared from the basement with Max in tow. To anyone else, Peter looked no different than if they had just woken him from a nap, but those who had known him the longest recognized that distinctive set of his expression that meant his mind had been racing as fast as Egon's or Ray's ever did and was only now dialling back to its usual pace.

Max, on the other hand, was a little pale and he held himself stiffly. But he had his shoulders up and back and he didn't shy away from eye-contact this time. "Where are you guys off to?"

"Something nasty is poking around Alphabet City," Peter said.

Max visibly shook himself before he said, "Can we come with you?"

Peter's eyebrows went up, but he smiled warmly. "Sure! Party out on the town!"

"Pete, I don't know…" Winston began.

The look Peter flashed his teammates was fast and intent and spoke volumes. A blast from the proton packs set on full was less searing.

"...if we'll all fit in Ecto-1 with your stuff all over the back-seat," Winston quickly amended.

"I can fix that," Ray offered. With an impish grin, he dove into the car and started flinging items out over his shoulder like a dog digging a hole for a bone.

"Hey! That isn't mine! And those are definitely _your_ socks, Ray!" Peter whined.

Virgil and Norman had drawn close to Max, the latter settling a large hand on his boy's shoulder and the former looking at him with searching eyes.

"Mighty One, are you certain?" was all Virgil asked.

Max nodded. "Yeah. I could use a break." He glanced up. "Couldn't you, Normie?"

Norman smirked. "I like breaking."

Virgil shook his head with fond resignation. "All right. Let's get this over with then."

-==OOO==-

One full-bodied apparition later, Norman was a lot less amused.

"It slimed my sword!" he protested for the fourth time.

"Even so, you cannot wipe your sword on our client's curtains," Egon said with a frown.

"Why not?" Ray wanted to know. "Pete does it all the time."

"Doctor Venkman is not a model for appropriate behavior," Virgil replied.

"He's got a point," Winston agreed.

Peter was arranging billing with the client who hadn't yet noticed the ruined curtains, but he was also keeping an eye on Max. The kid had handled the bust with ease, showing all the same smart-talking confidence and courage Peter remembered. But then, it was a different situation entirely. Here he was just a tag-a-long, and the ghost was only a Class Four. Peter wouldn't have expected something comparatively low-key to get to the kid, after all.

But that didn't prevent him from making sure he was watching Max every minute, just in case.

Max had wandered out to the curb where some of the kids from the neighborhood had gathered after the job had been finished. Peter knew the look of a man working the crowds and he could tell that Max, whether he even realized it or not, had automatically gravitated to the assembled watchers for whom he could do the most good by easing any remaining fears. Max was gesturing wildly and imitating various voices and sound-effects and the younger children were already losing their look of terror and replacing it with awe.

Suddenly Peter caught a few words and he froze.

"Egon?"

Egon was at his side in a second. "What is it, Pete?"

"What's Max's PKE right now?"

Egon's eyebrows rose, but he pulled out his PKE meter and trained it on the Mighty One. His eyebrows rose even more at the result.

"Listen to him, Spengs. Is it me, or is he speaking fluent Polish?"

Egon could only nod.

-==OOO==-

"Let me get this straight," Max crossed his arms and looked around the kitchen where everyone else was trying to act nonchalant while making sandwiches. "I was speaking in Polish. Without actually knowing Polish. Or knowing I was doing it."

"So it seems, Mighty One," Virgil said.

"And you don't know how I managed it?" he pinned his Lemurian mentor with a glare.

"Uh, actually, to be honest, while I have several competing theories…"

"That's a no," Winston finished for him.

"Yeah, I got that." Max frowned. "Guys. I _don't_ speak Polish."

"But you did," Egon shrugged as he layered tomato slices on bread with mayonnaise and nothing else – it was his favorite sandwich in the world and for some reason it drove Peter _nuts_. "And yet you did not have such an ability when last we met, so obviously something has changed."

Norman, who had been eating most of a hank of ham all by himself, paused and looked up. "It could have been Bai Huo. At least for a while."

"White Blaze?" Max asked. "What do you mean?"

Norman smirked. "Mighty One, the Ronins did not all speak English to you while you were with them in Japan."

"They...didn't?"

Ray popped out behind the kid and handed him a turkey sandwich to give him something to hold onto.

"You're right," Virgil frowned. "I should have realized. While the Mighty One has often had the good fortune to encounter allies as well as enemies who have a command of English, that has not always been the case. But immortal beings and spirits of sufficient power can make themselves understood regardless of language. If Bai Huo has the ability to share his comprehension with those in his vicinity, it would explain how you were able to converse so easily with the others."

Max's face was pale but he said without a tremor, "But when I was alone with Skullmaster, I understood the people he was killing, and White Blaze was halfway around the world."

Egon shoved his tomato sandwich away from Peter who was making vomiting motions and picked up the PKE meter he'd brought upstairs with him. "Your PKE signature has changed since we saw you last, and more significantly than the slight change we saw in the aftermath of the battle with Pandora." He fiddled with the meter and narrowed in the readings. "It is entirely possible you have absorbed a new ability from a more powerful entity."

"Did this Bay Hoo-Hoo do anything when you were with him?" Peter asked, trying to get around Egon to purge the abomination that was the tomato sandwich.

"Do what?"

"A transfer of energy would do it," Ray offered. "Some kind of psychic resonance or something like that."

Max remembered waking up after crashing into a barrier and feeling no pain from whatever had knocked him out. He remembered the trickle of awareness that White Blaze had shared with him when they bumped heads. And, of course, White Blaze had nearly turned himself transparent healing Max towards the end of the battle, for all it had been a temporary reprieve.

Virgil nodded, almost following the boy's thoughts exactly. "Bai Huo transferred a great deal of energy to the Mighty One multiple times during the course of their time together."

"That would explain the readings, then," Egon nodded. "I would postulate that as Max moves towards his destiny and grows more fully into his powers, he will develop additional gifts."

"Kid's gonna be a regular Superman, huh?" Pete teased.

Egon frowned. "Unlikely. Mainly, I believe he will expand his inherent connection to the cosmic energies that bind our dimension as well as increase his aptitude with regards to directly combating negative forces on equal terms."

"It's possible you might even someday be able to open the portals directly without needing the Cap," Ray said eagerly. "Wouldn't that be neat?"

Max's face suddenly went red and he dropped his sandwich from fingers that shook. " _No_! It's not neat at all! There's _no way_ it should be right for me to get rewarded for _killing people_!"

He turned and fled.

Peter was already moving. "I've got this. Don't worry."

"Pete…" Winston called after him uncertainly.

At the threshold, Peter paused just long enough to pin the room with the force of his gaze. Not the happy, crowd-pleasing look he used in public and on the press, nor the lazy, sly warmth he reserved for his friends. This was pure intellect, raw and true, and absolute certainty in his own abilities. It was a look Virgil wore almost daily, as did Egon.

The look of a master in his element.

"This is exactly what I needed," Peter said, his voice surprisingly low. "Couldn't have engineered a better opening if I'd planned it. Don't wait up and don't come in for anything less than a Class Seven."

And he was gone.

-==OOO==-

Max ran for the basement even though he could have gone anywhere in the world. His heart wanted him to get as far away from people as possible. The barrenness of the Outback was sounding really good right now.

But his feet knew to run to where his heart would get the help it needed and carried him back to the Mousehole room.

Max didn't entirely realize he had curled up in a corner behind a crate pretending to be a table, his arms around his knees and shaking as if he would never stop. But he couldn't help but notice when Peter Venkman walked in and shut the door behind him.

Max scrunched his eyes shut but he could still feel Peter's gaze on him.

"All right, kiddo. No more false starts. Let's get down to the real work."

-==OOO==-

For almost four days, Peter and Max barely left the basement.

Virgil and Norman were tense, if 'tense' could describe the pressure on a tightrope cable spanning the Grand Canyon trying to hold up an 18-wheeler. Egon tried to reassure them that Peter was the best, that this was probably what he had expected all along, that everything would be fine. Ray told stories about how Peter had learned the lock-yourself-in method in college, and how he'd written both of his doctoral theses that way over the course of a single week each. Winston hadn't seen this behavior before, but he knew acutely that when the goofy member of the team stopped goofing around and actually put his own considerable brain to work, he never let them down.

Every few hours, someone delivered a tray with food and drink to the closed door, but no one so much as knocked. It was two days before the trays came back with evidence that more than one person had eaten any meaningful amount. Peter emerged at unpredictable intervals to fall into his bed and sleep hard for a few hours before waking and returning back downstairs – all without saying a word to anyone other than to affirm that he had only left when he was sure Max was sleeping soundly.

(And if Norman crept into the basement using the stealth he had perfected over ten thousand years of life while his boy was asleep to assure himself that Max really was all right, well, only Virgil and Peter knew. And Peter didn't stop him from standing guard over the boy in sleep, though he always drove him off before Max woke again.)

Still, it was a difficult and trying few days.

When at last Peter sauntered up the stairs with no warning at all, finding everyone gathered in Egon's lab ostensibly working but really just sitting around worrying, he flopped down on the couch that lived in one corner with a dramatic groan.

"Pete?" Egon asked.

"I need, in this order, about sixteen hours of sleep, two large pizzas with everything, a shower, another sixteen hours of sleep, a vacation to the Bahamas, and another shower."

Max entered the room a few moments behind him.

"And _he_ ," Peter jabbed a finger in Max's direction, "needs his own sixteen hours of sleep, pizza, shower, and a trip to Disneyland."

Ray couldn't help it. He laughed.

"I'm serious," Peter glared at him. "The kid could use some honest fun, plus some time in the sunlight. And a few good jolts of non-world-in-peril adrenaline will do wonders for his brain, too."

Max wasn't looking at anyone but there was less hesitation in his steps as he moved to the couch where he swatted at Peter's feet so he could perch on the arm at the far end. His obvious, unconscious comfort with Peter spoke to the days of enforced emotional closeness. "How come you get a vacation and I get a loud amusement park full of stressed-out parents and kids?"

"First of all, you _are_ a kid, Max, not a senior citizen, so you don't qualify for the vacation discount. And second, because _I_ am the Great Doctor Venkman and _you_ are just a kid, Grasshopper."

And Max laughed. Honestly, genuinely laughed.

Virgil and Norman were hanging back around the edges, but at that sound they both moved forward – not quite crowding the boy, but it was close.

"Mighty One?" Norman asked gently.

Max let out a long breath. "I'm okay. I'm...well, I'm still gonna be upset for a while sometimes, and I'll have to come back at least every week while we find all the bits that are still broken, but, yeah." He finally looked up to his Guardian and his Lemurian with eyes that were older and wiser but no longer filled with desperate sorrow. "I'm okay. And I'm going to get through this. I know that now."

"Everybody say it all together. 'Thank you, Doctor Venkman The Great!'" Peter sang.

Ray threw a pillow at him and Winston groaned.

But Peter caught the expressions on both Virgil's and Norman's faces and knew their gratitude was probably more than he'd even want to hear.

Amidst the banter, Egon covertly scanned the Mighty One with the PKE again.

 _Remarkable. It's shifted once more. Not much, almost too little for the meter to detect. But it's there. Clearly his abilities are tied not only to his destiny, but to his state of mind. Which follows logically. After all, the boy must choose to embrace his destiny, and if he is troubled he will not so easily accept his calling. I wonder if Peter realizes that by reordering the parts of Max's mind that were upset by his experience, he has actually contributed not only to the boy's overall wellbeing, but to the safety of the very world._

Peter shot a shrewd glance at Egon, and Egon realized Peter knew it all too well.

"Before you begin to prepare to head home," Egon said suddenly, "I would like to investigate your newfound ability to comprehend languages. For example, I would like to know if you can read some of these sigils that only Virgil could translate."

"Aw, leave off the kid," Winston rolled his eyes. "Didn't the doctor just prescribe Disneyland, not testing?"

"No, it's okay," Max said. "I want to know, too."

Peter's face lost its slack grin and went sharp, and the look that passed between him and Max was so private that even those who knew either of them well could not interpret it. When he spoke, Peter's voice was easy, but his words carried weight.

"Oscar Wilde said that language is the parent of thought. We've done a lot of talking, and I'm not signing up to start counseling you in Ancient Lemurian, but if you're ready, it can't hurt you to find new ways of understanding yourself. And the truth is that you're going to have to get used to the idea of having this ability, so you might as well start learning about it now. You don't want to be afraid of what you are because it might bring up bad memories."

Max nodded soberly. "I know. Understanding how I changed might even give me a few more tools to bang things back into place in my head."

"Exactly."

"It is no accident that you have acquired this ability at this time, Mighty One," Virgil said softly. "I believe Doctor Venkman is quite correct."

"Everybody write that down!" Peter went back to being loud and obnoxious like flipping a switch. "The chicken who knows everything says I'm right!"

Virgil sighed. "Fowl, actually."

"Even a broken clock is right twice a day," Winston commented.

"That's not necessarily true," Egon shook his head. "If the hands of the clock aren't stationary but are moving, then the chances that they'll happen to reflect the actual time of day are less than…"

Peter threw the pillow at Egon this time. "I am _way_ too tired to be mocked!"

"That's never stopped you before," Ray said wryly.

"Oh, this means _war_!" And suddenly Peter erupted from the couch and caught two of his unsuspecting teammates in a full-body tackle. Before anyone could quite grasp what was happening, Peter had armed himself with cushions from the couch and was bopping anybody in reach.

And Virgil and Norman felt the shadow in their own hearts lift when Max dove into the pile with a shout and immediately began a counterattack of his own. In moments, everyone found reason to be pulled into the battle that filled the firehouse with bright laughter.

When Janine came up after her lunch break to check on everyone, she found Egon silently restoring his lab, not even frowning at the slight damage to the table that had been nearest the chaos, while Winston quietly swept up spilled stuffing across the floor. Curled up in the remains of the cushions were the others, fast asleep. Even Virgil and Norman.

Winston leaned close to her enough to whisper, "First sound sleep the kid's had in weeks without nightmares. I'd bet my paycheck. And maybe Virg and Norman, too."

"I think you're right." Janine winked at Egon and Winston and turned to head back downstairs. _Good job, Doctor V_ , she thought.

Above, Max stirred just enough to be aware that Norman was hunched protectively against him, that Virgil was actually asleep beside him, that the Ghostbusters were still around him. As the Ronins had been. As his mom had been. As Bea and Felix and Presley and other heroes and people in the way of disaster had been all along.

 _I'm me again_ , he thought sleepily. _And even if there's parts that are busted, I'm going to fix them. Not just because I have to. Because everybody is going to help me. I don't have to fix myself all alone. I don't have to carry anything alone if I don't want to. I can choose again_.

He started to slip back to a comfortable, warm sleep.

 _I choose to fight. I choose to fight until I'm really okay. Because even when it's hard, it's worth it._

 _Watch out, world. The Mighty One is here to stay._


End file.
